


A Werewolf in SHIELD Clothing

by freudensteins_monster



Category: Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Avengers Compound, Brock Rumlow POV, Dialogue Heavy, F/M, First Dates, Implied Sexual Content, Morning After, SHIELD Academy (Marvel), Swearing, Timeline What Timeline, Werewolves, but i blame pumpkindoodles, first fic for this pairing, no idea why, triple agent brock rumlow
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-08
Updated: 2021-02-08
Packaged: 2021-03-13 21:33:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,744
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29285334
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/freudensteins_monster/pseuds/freudensteins_monster
Summary: As the full moon shone over the Avengers compound, a team of mercenaries tripped the perimeter alarms. And while one team drew SHIELD’s security forces to the northern end of the compound, a second smaller team approached from the west. They had been hired separately, paid to infiltrate the Avengers labs and copy Dr Foster’s research while the other team was sacrificed as a distraction.  They were supposed to get in and out, with SHIELD none the wiser. They hadn’t counted on the R&D labs being defended by a goddamn werewolf.Former triple agent Brock Rumlow slept through the whole thing and wants to know why the hell everyone keeps asking him if he's a werewolf.
Relationships: Darcy Lewis/Brock Rumlow
Comments: 56
Kudos: 200





	A Werewolf in SHIELD Clothing

**Author's Note:**

> A bit rushed and unbeta'd, but I'm another year older today and I want to feel like I accomplished something. 
> 
> This fic is entirely PumpkinDoodles fault. I've never written taserbones before, and while Frank Grillo holds no appeal to me personally, but I've loved every version of Brock Rumlow she's written. So, if you like this fic at all you should go read her taserbones fics. Right now.

Something was buzzing near his head. It would mercifully stop for a few seconds only to start back up for another minute. Brock rolled over with a groan, his body feeling every one of its forty nine years. He pried an eye open and saw his phone on his bedside table having a fit. He wrinkled his brow as he tried to parse out what could be so goddamn important so early in the morning, only for it to click a moment later that his bedroom was already drenched in sunlight.

“Fuck…” he groaned, forcing himself into a sitting position. He reached out for his phone and turned it over, his eyebrows reaching for the sky when he saw he had twenty-seven missed calls split between Hill and Jack. “Fuck,” he muttered, only to repeat himself a few seconds later when his brain registered the time. He was late. Well, late for him. 

He’d slept through his 5am alarm and now no longer had time to hit the gym or sit down for a decent breakfast - one of his favourite parts of his new routine. 

“Christ, I’m getting soft. And old,” he grumbled, rubbing a hand over his face, wincing at his sharp stubble.

He had twenty minutes to shower and fix himself some coffee (both essential for his functioning, especially after last night), and make it over to the Academy before the start of his 9am class.

Correction. He had twenty minutes minus however long it took for Hill to chew him out.

“Rumlow, so nice of you to get back to me,” Hill greeted in her usual unimpressed tone the second the line connected.

“What the fuck did I miss?”

** *** **

Six hours earlier, as the full moon shone over the Avengers compound, a team of mercenaries tripped the perimeter alarms. And while one team drew SHIELD’s security forces to the northern end of the compound, a second smaller team approached from the west. They had been hired separately, paid to infiltrate the Avengers labs and copy Dr Foster’s research while the other team was sacrificed as a distraction. They were supposed to get in and out, with SHIELD none the wiser. They hadn’t counted on the R&D labs being defended by a goddamn werewolf.

** *** **

It was a long, weird day. Brock felt hungover as hell for the first few hours, and shuddered to think how much worse he’d be feeling if it wasn’t for the knock off supersoldier serum he’d been given while working under Peirce.

And after all the excitement last night all the trainees were restless and seemed to want to spend class gossiping like his mother’s old book club. After he went HYDRA-scary on one idiot who was bragging about running across the compound to see the fight instead locking himself in the nearest safe room like protocol dictated they settled down and focused on the lesson. But then he had to start all over with the next class.

And there was another issue.

“Why the fuck is everyone asking me if I’m the fucking werewolf?” Brock asked Jack as they walked back towards his office at the Academy after lunch.

“Simple, mate. You weren’t on comms last night and nobody had eyes on you. That and you’re all… growly. And hairy,” he added gesturing at Rumlow’s stubble.

“I am not fucking growly,” he growled.

“Yes, you fucking are. Or are the rumours of one of your trainees running from your classroom like he pissed his pants bullshit too?”

“No, that’s true,” Brock conceded. “Dumbass left the dormitories last night to go watch Cap in action.” 

“Dumbass,” Rollins agreed.

“And stupidly luck. Kid didn’t even stop to grab a vest or a weapon.”

“Supreme dumbass. You tell Hill?” he asked, as he followed Brock swiped his access card on his office door.

“Yep.”

“Think she’ll kick him out?”

“Hard to say,” Brock mused. “We need as many new agents as we can get, but we don’t need that sort of reckless stupidity. Shit’s contagious.”

“Mm,” Jack nodded along, before trying again. “Speaking of, where the fuck were you last night? You come down with diarrhea?” 

“What?” Brock hissed.

“You get food poisoning or something? Were you stuck in the bathroom? Is that why you weren’t out there knocking heads?”

“No,” Brock scoffed. “I had a cast iron stomach before HYDRA pumped me full of poison, you know that.”

“Did yoooouuu...” Jack hummed while he tried to think of some other plausible reason why the veteran agent hadn’t been on comms last night - he’d been evading the question all through lunch, “get your bulletproof vest stuck on your head, trip over your bootlaces, and knock yourself out on your kitchen counter in your rush to get out of your apartment?”

“I wish,” Brock grumbled. 

“C’mon mate, you gotta tell me,” Jack whined. Brock sighed and pulled Jack into his office, closing the door behind him and drawing the blinds. “Seriously, Brock. What happened? You’re freaking me out here.”

“I was on a date with Darcy.”

“Finally!” Jack crowed.

Brock raised a hand to silence him. “No, I _was_ on a date with her. I took her into town and we had lunch. Lunch turned into drinks, and we ended up back at my apartment...”

“And she, what? Left you handcuffed to the bed?” Jack snorted.

“No, she… she wore me out,” Brock admitted quietly, embarrassment clear on his face.

“What?” Jack legit giggled.

“I’m not kidding, man. Five hours of the wildest, most energetic sex of my life; I was out like a light the second she let me rest for a minute. I didn’t hear her leave. I slept through the alarms - missed the whole goddamn thing.”

“Darcy? Really?” Jack whistled five minutes later, when he had finally stopped laughing. “I would never have pegged her for a tomcat in the sack.”

“Me either,” Brock sighed as he fell into his chair.

Jack smirked, “Not that you’re complaining.”

“No,” Brock couldn’t help but smirk back, “Definitely not complaining. But christ, Jack, how am I gonna keep up with her? I’m an old man.”

“Hardly,” Jack snorted. “The serum keeps you young, mate.”

“The serum slows my aging,” Brock corrected testily. “And while I’m creeping up on fifty, Darcy’s only just turned thirty.”

“If the age gap bothers you so much, why have you spent the last month trying to get a date with her?”

“Because,” Brock shrugged, “she’s cute, she’s funny… and I felt like, despite the age gap, we were on the same page.”

“And, what? Marathon sex isn’t on your page?”

“Not… frequently,” he replied awkwardly. “Shut up, man. It could be a problem - what if that’s her normal? She seriously put my serum-boosted stamina to the test – if she hadn’t had to go back to the labs to help Jane with a project she might have wanted to keep going! I’m gonna need a week to recover as it is.”

“Fuck off, man. Five hours every day is nobody’s fucking normal. Could have been the alcohol, could have been hormones. I once dated a girl who got crazy horny the week before her period. Not five hours straight horny, but still.”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

“Of course I’m right. I’m also right when I tell you to stop whining and just tell your girlfriend next time she gets that look in her eye, ‘Sorry babe, I don’t want crazy marathon sex tonight. How about we watch the next episode of whatever’s on the Food Network instead.’”

“Shut up,” Brock grumbled.

“Whatever man, I know Darcy’s got you watching Great British Bake Off,” Jack teased. “So what did you tell Hill when she asked? Not the truth, though I would have paid good money to see her face when you told her you were comatose after Darcy fucked your brains out.”

“I told her a variant of the truth.”

“Which was…”

“That I slept through the alarms… after taking one of the sleeping pills they prescribed me after the Triskelion.”

“Yikes. What’d she say to that?”

“To throw the rest of my leftover stash out and go to Medical for a lower dosage prescription, something that will help me get to sleep but won’t put me under for eight hours,” he sighed.

“Feeling guilty there, pal?”

“A bit,” Brock admitted with a grimace. “Not enough to tell her I was comatose after Darcy fucked my brains out, though.”

The pair snickered like teenagers and when they regained their composure Brock had to herd Jack out of his office.

“Come on, out. I’ve gotta go teach the newbies how to shoot and reload an ICER without knocking themselves out.”

“You’re really enjoying yourself, aren’t you? This whole… retired, simple life thing,” Jack marvelled.

“I am not retired, Jack-ass. With grading and writing up lesson plans I’m still puttin’ in like 50hrs a week. But yes,” he added at Jack’s prodding, “Couldn’t have imagined it before the Triskelion, but I like not being in the field anymore. I spent the better part of the last thirty years risking my neck in a thousand different nightmare-inducing ways. I deserve to be able to step back and build a comfortable life for myself.”

“And you can picture Darcy in this new comfortable life of yours?”

Brock nodded.

“Then talk to her, dumbass.”

“I will,” he promised as they went to part ways at the next hallway junction. “...She hasn’t texted me today though, which is weird for her. Not even a ‘thanks for last night’ or one of those weird tick tock things she’s always bombarding me with. That’s a bad sign, right?”

“For fucks sake, Rumlow. Quit spiralling and just talk to the girl!” Jack called down the hallway, flipping him off and exiting the building before Brock could whine about his new perfect life and new perfect girlfriend some more.

** *** **

As consuming as his thoughts about Darcy were, Brock was a professional, thank you very much, and he was able to push those thoughts to the side and focus on his remaining classes – all of which asked him if he was last night’s werewolf. But come the end of the day, as he walked back to his apartment, he let his thoughts drift back to her. He checked his phone and noted with a sigh that she still hadn’t text him. He started to think up a dozen reasons why not, each more ridiculous than the next, when it occurred to him that not only had Darcy not text him since they’d spent the night together, she hadn’t text him since the attack on the facility.

He swore and promptly changed directions, jogging over to the building that housed the R&D labs. Hill had said there had been a few injuries but no casualties from SHIELD’s side of the fight, and he was sure if Darcy had been one of those injured someone would have mentioned it to him by now – it was obvious to everyone that saw them together that he was crazy about her.

So, yeah, Darcy was fine. She was definitely fine, Brock repeated to himself as he slowed down to a less frantic pace as he navigated the R&D hallways. He reached Dr Foster’s lab but her assistant was nowhere in sight.

“Hey, doc,” he greeted, aiming for casual but failing miserably. “Darcy gone home for the day?”

“Oh hi, Rumlow. I’m fine, thanks for asking,” Foster droned, barely glancing up for whatever research she was currently obsessing over. “The well-armed mercenaries who attacked the facility last night while we were here working didn’t even manage to breach the security doors before being run off.”

Brock had the good sense to look ashamed. “Sorry, doc. I’m glad to hear you’re alright. I’m sorry I wasn’t here to help you two hold down the fort. But rumour has it, you had your own backup.”

“Something like that,” Jane agreed with a strange smile that Brock would have analysed further if he didn’t have more pressing concerns.

“Darcy was here last night?”

“Uhhh, yes,” Jane answered cagily.

“And she’s okay?”

“She’s fine.” Jane glanced up from her work. “You haven’t spoken to her today?”

“Uh, no. Going on almost 24hrs without a single video of a [toddler doing the haka](https://www.tiktok.com/@focuswithdan/video/6892850058484665601?lang=en) or [an owl trying on hats](https://www.tiktok.com/@the.hooty.collective/video/6899113460202802434?lang=en&is_copy_url=0&is_from_webapp=v2&sender_device=pc&sender_web_id=6926006401576797697)... I was getting concerned,” he joked lamely.

Jane snorted. She for one was enjoying the lack of TicTok links clogging up her inbox. “I’m sure she’ll make up for it tomorrow. She’s probably just sleeping. She took today off sick,” she added for Brock’s benefit.

“She’s sick? She seemed fine yesterday,” he muttered to himself, immediately wondering if he’d somehow hurt her last night and now she was avoiding him. But that didn’t really make sense. She had definitely been running the show last night, but he had B-Grade supersoldier serum running through his veins, and they’d been more than a little tipsy…

“Stop spiralling and go talk to her,” Jane’s authoritative voice cut through his mind’s anxious ramblings.

“Why do people keep telling me that,” Brock whined as he was shooed out of the lab.

“Probably because it’s good advice. Now, go!”

** *** **

Brock paced outside Darcy’s apartment for a solid minute before working up the nerve to knock on the door.

“Who is it?”

“It’s Brock.”

“Uh… just a second!”

There was a lot of shuffling and muffled swearing coming from the other side of the door, but when she finally opened it Brock almost laughed. She was wearing pancake print pyjama bottoms while her top half was completely swaddled in some sort of snuggie thing so that only her face was visible.

“You okay, sweetheart?” he chuckled as she struggled to keep her snuggie-hoodie on.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” she answered shiftily, still a little out of breath from whatever it was she doing before answering the door.

“Jane said you were out sick all day,” Brock said by way of an explanation for his visit, trying not to spiral again wondering why Darcy hadn’t invited him in.

“Oh, it’s nothing. Just a bit of a hangover, plus all the excitement last night… just figured I’d milk it for all its worth.”

“Sure...” Brock nodded. “I was just a bit worried. I haven’t heard from you since our, uh, date last night.”

“Yeah, um, sorry about that,” Darcy blushed. “I kinda slept most of the day away.”

“Are we okay?” he wanted to ask when she avoid his eyes, but then the elevator dinged and a lab tech stepped off and headed down the hallway towards them. “Can we talk about this inside?” Brock whispered as lab tech stopped a few doors down.

Darcy worried her bottom lip, and that should have worried Brock, but all he could think about was how those lips had felt against his skin less than 24hrs ago.

“Okay,” Darcy sighed, stepping aside to let Brock in. Brock locked the door behind him, trying not to laugh as she shuffled like a penguin towards the couch.

“So, uh,” Brock started, trying to stay focused on his serious relationship concerns while Darcy looked completely ridiculous. “Are we… okay?”

“Yeah… why?” she asked, having not been in Brock’s head all day.

“It’s just… Things were a little crazy last night. And you didn’t text me at all today, and then Jane said you called out sick… I guess I was worried that, uh, I hurt you… or something.”

“Aw babe, no,” Darcy reassured him with a smile. “If anything I should be the one worried I hurt you. You pretty much passed out when I went to get dressed. If it wasn’t for your snoring I might have thought that I killed you,” she teased.

“I don’t snore,” he grumbled, his neck heating up.

“Do too!”

“Do not!” he laughed, shoving her playfully.

Darcy went to shove him back but in the process lost her grip on her snuggie and freaked out when it fell back. Brock’s eyes nearly bugged out of his head. Darcy squealed and desperately pulled it back over her head, followed by the blanket from her couch, in an effort to hide from him.

“Uh, Darcy…”

“…yeah?” came a muffled squeak from under the blanket.

“Did you… do something different with your hair?” Brock asked redundantly. Because there was definitely something different going on with her hair. It had grown several inches since he’d last seen her, for one. And instead of the soft, shiny waves he daydreamed about running his fingers through it was fluffy. Really, really fluffy.

“…no.”

“Did something happen to make your hair do that?”

“…maybe.”

Brock did some quick mental math and found the only logical answer.

“Holy shit… You’re the werewolf, aren’t you?”

“…maybe,” she sniffled only to crawl out of her blankets in confusion as Brock started laughing his ass off. “What’s so funny?”

“People think it’s me. But it’s you. I’m like your beard,” he realised, dissolving into giggles.

“What?” she laughed at his hysterics.

“Oh shit,” he chuckled, wiping his eyes as he tried to get a hold of himself. “I was off comms last night, nobody knew where I was. They didn’t see me and the werewolf in the same room together so for some reason everyone thinks it was me.”

“I totally get that. Out of the two of us, you’re definitely more growly.”

“Hey,” he went to protest before sobering suddenly. “Shit, baby. You’re the werewolf! You chased those mercs off – they had assault rifles! Are you okay?” he asked, frantically pulling at her blankets to try and check for injuries.

“Babe, I’m okay,” she assured him, grabbing his hands before he inadvertently tickled her. “I promise I’m okay. Not even a scratch.”

“You’re sure?” he fretted.

“I’m sure. I think if I would remember getting shot.” She paused and regarded her potential boyfriend curiously. “How are you not more freaked out by this?”

“Sweetheart, you almost got shot. I’m plenty freaked out.”

“No, I mean the part where I turned into Kujo.”

“Honey, Kujo was a rabid St Bernard. If the stories going around the compound are true, you turned into like a Thor-sized wolf.”

“Well, there’s not really a pop culture reference for that, but my point still stands. Why aren’t you freaking out more?”

Brock looks at the woman he’s pretty sure he still wants to spend the foreseeable future with and just shrugs.

“After all the weird shit I’ve seen in this job… honestly sweetheart I just roll with it.”

“Roll with it?” Darcy snorts. “Okay.”

“I mean it. Nazis, superheroes, gods, aliens, magic… My girlfriend being a werewolf it not the weirdest thing that’s ever happened to me.”

Darcy had to laugh then. “We lead very interesting lives.”

“We do,” he nodded, scooching closer and encouraging her to snuggle into his embrace. “Hell, even if you bit me and I got turned into a werewolf too I still don’t think it would rate more than an 8.5 on my weird shit-o-meter. You didn’t though, did you?” he joked, pulling at his collar.

Darcy slapped his hand away. “It doesn’t work like that.”

“It doesn’t, huh? The movies lied?” he smirked.

“Yeah, well, the movies didn’t know about space werewolves.”

“Space werewolves?” he repeated, an eyebrow raising ever so slightly.

“Yeah,” Darcy sighed, settling in to tell the story. “A couple of months before we came here I finally got an invite to go with Jane to meet Thor on some planet a few rainbow bridge rides away from Asgard to view this once in a billion years astronomical event, right? We get there and I’m feeling super queasy, but it’s my first trip via psychedelic highway to hell so I just write it off as, like, motion sickness.”

“Sure,” Brock nodded along.

“But I’m following Jane and Thor around this alien planet’s markets but I’m too sick to enjoy it. Thirty minutes later I’m on my knees hurling my guts up, I’m breaking out in, like, this blue rash – everyone’s freaking out. Thor carried me to the nearest equivalent of a hospital. It was gonna take a while so I told Jane I’d be fine and made Thor take her to see thing the space thing before it was over – Jane wouldn’t have outright blamed me, but I would have been hearing about it for years if she missed it. The docs ran a few tests and their best guess was that something about my ‘Terran’ physiology was reacting negatively to something in their atmosphere…”

“You’re allergic to space?” Brock injected.

“Yep,” Darcy popped. “So, they give me an injection to help with the nausea and set me up with a bed in like this big non-critical observation room with a dozen other patients to wait for Jane and Thor to come back. And curled up on the bed next to me is this giant friggin wolf.”

“Oh my god,” Brock groaned, leaning back until his head hit the couch. He knew Darcy well enough at this point to guess what happened next. “You tried to pet the fucking space werewolf, didn’t you?”

“It was a giant puppy dog, Brock! With giant puppy dog eyes! He was so cute and fluffy. I was powerless to resist him!”

“And then he bit you.”

“And then he bit me,” Darcy confirmed miserably. “Apparently he comes from this race of very in-tune-with nature type aliens. Pretty much what we think of as werewolves, but totally in control and can shift at will. And they can usually only pass on the werewolf gene to their kids. Only in very rare circumstances does the gene get passed on by other means.

“And by rare, you mean like when a space werewolf sick with who knows what bites an Earth girl who’s allergic to space?”

“Pretty much,” she sighed.

“You said they can shift at will. Can you?”

“Yeah, when we got back to Earth Thor blabbed about to Hill so she stuck me in some Hulk-proofed cabin in the woods until I could get it under control.”

“So last night, during the full moon..?”

“I don’t have to shift during a full moon. I just get really antsy if I don’t. It’s just like this itch that’s really hard to ignore, you know?” she explained, “But then the alarms started going off last night and could I smell the intruders – which is super weird, let me tell you – and I just kind gave in to the itch.”

“And chased the bad guys off.”

“Yes, I did,” Darcy smiled proudly.

Brock smiled back and pressed a kiss to her forehead as he circled back to the thought that had been plaguing him all day.

“So… this itch, with the full moon and all… Would that explain last night?”

“What about last night?”

“You were very…”

“Very…?”

Brock blushed, much to his annoyance. He was a goddamn adult and he could have a goddamn adult conversation about their sex life.

“We went at it like rabbits last night,” he blurted out, much to Darcy’s amusement. “Or wolves maybe, I’ve got no idea. I don’t watch a lot of Animal Planet. But, uh, I was kinda wondering if that’s normal for you now?”

“Oh god no!” Darcy interrupted before Brock could really start rambling. “That’s totally a full moon thing, and then only because I had, like, three mojitos with lunch, and I was avoiding shifting. I got stuck in feedback loop of you smelling really good, which turned me on, which turned you on, which made you smell really good… It was like a perfect storm of horniness. That’s another reason why I called in sick today,” she added bashfully. “Between that and chasing bad guys I was fucking exhausted.”

“Me too. That’s why I wasn’t on comms last night,” he explained, grinning into her hair. “You fucked my brains out, sweetheart. I was pretty much comatose after you left – I slept through the alarms.”

“Oh my god!” Darcy squealed into his chest. “What did you tell Hill?”

“I lied my ass off. We’re not telling her the truth. Ever. If anyone else asks… I’m the werewolf.” Darcy laughed. “I’m serious, baby. Can’t have anyone thinking I’m an old man who can’t keep up with his younger girlfriend, no matter how true that is.”

“You are not old,” Darcy argued. “And I’m pretty sure the age difference is the least of people’s issues with our relationship.”

“Who’s got issues with our relationship?” he demanded, ready to read them the riot act.

“People,” Darcy quipped. “You know, field agent type people who don’t understand why the most infamous ass kicking triple agent in SHIELD’s history is wasting his time with ‘the intern’. Popular consensus is my boobs, by the way,” she added sourly.

“You don’t think that’s why I asked you out, do you?”

“I… wonder,” Darcy replied, wincing at Brock’s wounded grimace. “I mean, you’re practically a superhero. You were undercover in HYDRA for years and were somehow able to keep your soul intact. You’ve spent your whole career saving the world. I get coffee.”

“You do not get coffee. You do not _only_ get coffee,” he amended when Darcy huffed. “You’ve helped Jane make world changing breakthroughs with her research, you’ve helped save the world, if not the universe, on at least two separate occasions, and you’ve almost finished your doctorate in Astrophysics so soon you’ll be off doing your own ground-breaking research while Jane breaks in a new assistant. You’re brave, you’re loyal, you’re smart, you’re funny, and you’re cute as hell…”

Darcy smiled awkwardly, still not quite believing him or his compliments, so he tried a different tactic.

“Do you know why I put in a transfer to become an instructor at the Academy?”

Darcy shook her head.

“Because there are things I want for myself, for my life, and I can’t have them as a field agent,” he explained. “I was stuck in hospital for a month before I was stable enough to go into the Cradle. Do you know how many visitors I got? Two. Hill and Cap, and that was only because Cap was in the same hospital as me,” he added. “Did you know I got family out in the Bronx I haven’t seen in ten years? My ma stopped talking to me after the second time SHIELD told her I was KIA only for me to rock up on her doorstep a few weeks later alive and well. And after Pierce brought me into the fold I put even more distance between us. My sister’s got two kids that I’ve never even met. I want my family back. I want regular hours, I want three square meals a day and to never have to resort to eating MRE’s ever again. I want to go a whole month without getting a black eye or dislocating my shoulder.” Brock sighed and took Darcy’s hand in his. “I want a life, Darcy. A safe and comfortable one, and I want someone to share it with. And I know we’ve only been on the one date so far, but I’d really like to give this thing between us a real shot because… because when I think about the life I want for myself, I’ve got you in my arms.”

“Wow…” Darcy laughed tearfully. “That’s one hell of a speech.”

“Thanks,” Brock ducked his head bashfully. “I’ve only been obsessing over it for the last couple of weeks, and it kinda got kicked into overdrive after last night.”

Darcy smiled and curled in closer to him. “Are you sure you want to go on a second date with me. Even with the whole… werewolf thing?” she said, gesturing at her hair.

“Absolutely,” he swore. “But I gotta ask, sweetheart, what happened to your hair?” he chuckled.

“It’s a side effect of shifting,” Darcy whined, hiding behind it. “As soon as I can get a hairbrush through it I’ll go to a salon.”

Brock laughed, burrowing into her ridiculous hair so he could kiss her neck. “And you’re sure you wanna go on a second date with a boring old man, whose idea of excitement these days is a couple of beers and arguing over who’s gonna win Bake Off?”

“Absolutely,” Darcy grinned, reappearing from beneath her hair to kiss him. “Besides, you promised to make me ravioli from scratch. You’re never getting rid of me.”

**Author's Note:**

> I don't love the title, but it was this or "taserbones werewolf au".


End file.
